Harry Potter: A New Low Part 1
by RedBishopInLove
Summary: Just another day at Hogwarts...or is it?
1. Harry Potter: A New Low Part 1

Harry Potter: A New Low (Part 1)

Harry was pumped! He had just won the Quidditch cup final! Trying to re-tell that monumental triumph would be too emotional for this humble writer, so I will content myself with relating the aftermath to you.

Professor Dumbledore embraced Harry in a way that can only be described as familiar. There was much back patting and slapping…perhaps too much, but that didn't bother Harry at all because his eyes were drawn past the flapping wizard robes which currently assailed him to a nearby stairwell.

There Hermione Granger waited.

She beckoned in a way that made Harry's teenage hormones uncontrollable.

As the sea of furiously slapping hands parted, Harry found himself compelled, running towards his friend as if life itself depended upon their union. He deftly leapt after Hermione onto the first flight of stairs. Darting this way and that, he avoided being crushed by the enchanted railings which moved of their own accord, simultaneously navigating the myriad of other horrors that festooned this unbelievably dangerous school.

Several ghosts groped at him eagerly with cold, dead, ethereal fingers and for a moment he lost sight of Hermione. The dread memories brought on by their touch was almost too much to bear…Lord Voldemort's noseless visage exploded in his mind, leering grotesquely, looking for lack of a better description, like an ugly Ralph Fiennes.

Harry rubbed the scar on his forehead in an absent-minded fashion, ignoring its warning signal, and disregarding the portentous memories of his nemesis in eagerness to continue the testosterone fuelled pursuit of Hermione.

Blood throbbed in his temples as he dodged a spike trap which had never quite managed to kill any students and rounded a corner…into mystery.

"Hmmm, I don't remember these doors ever being here", he half whispered in a dubious British accent.

True enough, he found himself in a corridor with three doors, one blue, one yellow, one red.

He was familiar with enough Freudian nonsense to know that red was the colour of passion and that his urges drew him uncontrollably towards it. Thus he disregarded the red with a foppish gasp of contempt and grasped the handle of the blue door instead. It had a picture of a duck on it.

The super glue held his hand fast!

"I knew you would pick the blue door", a superior sounding voice remarked.

"Huh? What? Hermione, is that you?" gasped Harry, a shiver of terror slithering down his spinal column.

Slowly he turned around…

To Be Continued……

This story also available on my DeviantART page: http://redbishopinlove. 


	2. Harry Potter: A New Low Part 2

Harry Potter: A New Low (Part 2)

Harry's retina almost melted when he saw her…

Her wild hair was styled into a gigantic crest, zigzagged with red streaks and adorned here and there with green and white feathers, reminiscent of some Hyperborean, virgin sacrifice to Apollo. Black rivers of mascara tears flowed from her baleful eyes, ploughing through the heavy, white makeup which covered her young face to end in little, forlorn forks on her chin.

If he wasn't so befuddled with his own predicament, Harry would have read her appearance as the cry for help that it was. Instead, he stammered, "Hermione my dear, why are you wearing that god awful makeup?"

Her superior smirk morphed into a bare-toothed snarl of unrestrained fury as she spat her reply like a cannon. "I'm pregnant!"

The atmosphere was suddenly tense, charged. The lights flickered.

Harry was off balance and shocked, his ruddy, boyish face became a pallid mask of alabaster. His scar itched uncontrollably as the doom sank in.

"But, but, but…How?…I…I" he began, his brain failing to shake the surreal flavour of the encounter.

Her eyes, set deep in those angsty, black wells of mascara widened suddenly, revealing abnormally dilated pupils as she explained, "A month ago. Pentecost eve. We snuck out and met in the Enchanted Forest. It was witching hour. You were drunk…You said you knew what you were doing, you said it would be okay!" Her voice rose with each word until she was shrieking like a cannibal.

Harry was aghast. He fumbled for a reply.

"But I cast Antius Pregnantius!"

"You fool! That spell has a failure rate of 10 to 30 percent!"

"I…I didn't know that…"

A stunned silence ensued for several seconds. Harry had only just noticed how distended Hermione's stomach was.

"My God, it must be true then," he said, breaking the silence, "you're having my child!"

"Yes," she began, her face twisting into a horrid leer, "and now…Your punishment!"  
"...What?!?" he stammered.

Hermione ignored his stunned cry and assumed a squatting position, hoisting her skirts up past her knees. Her breath became heavy and panicked, and a wild, bestial look of defiant anticipation formed on her face.

A camelback contraction suddenly rocked the firmament.

"It's coming!!!" She roared, slipping a plank of wood between her teeth and biting down hard.

Harry recoiled in terror as Hermione's water broke like an exploding dam. She emitted a muffled shriek as another contraction occurred simultaneously.

"Oh no!" he screamed, struggling in vain to pull his hand free from the doorknob. It was a strong, pitiless glue that held him fast however, and he remained stuck. The duck etched on the blue door stared back into his soul without a trace of sympathy.  
He turned back to Hermione and in shaking wonder took in the mysteries of the cervix; his eyes held open by sheer awe.

"Look! Look!" she screamed through a clamped jaw as this horrific, fast-forward pregnancy continued.

Too shocked to do anything but watch on as the insanity unfolded, Harry was suddenly covered in unnameable fluids as an explosion of depth charge-like proportions blurred the atmosphere, heralding the baby's crowning as it continued its relentless push for freedom. Soon its face was visible, resembling, for lack of a better description, an ugly, noseless Ralph Fiennes.

"Dear God!" Harry gasped.

To be continued….to your horror

Also available on my DevART page


	3. Harry Potter: A New Low Part 3

Harry Potter: A New Low (Part 3)

The sneering beast clawed its way free with savage intent, hissing venomously as the light hit its eyes for the first time before flopping onto the floor and floundering like some kind of limbless gymnast.

Its body was seal-like and jet black in colour, and were it not for that evil, noseless face, most taxonomists would be satisfied to classify it as a harmless species of sea lion. But taxonomy is not always an exact science as any fisheries department may inform you…

Hermione's eyes, though wild, bloodshot, and rimmed with dark circles, bore that distinct, unmistakable gleam that can only be found in the orbs of a proud mother.

"My darling!" She droned, conveying a mixture of exhaustion and wonder in her laser beam shocking, eclectic, english whine that cut into Harry's soul like spider. "What a beautiful baby boy," she gushed. "My pulse…. My heart…. My treasure…. My revenge!"

If the creature noticed the doting words of its mother, it showed no indication. Presently, it had gained some measure of control over its cumbersome body and was steadying itself, looking this way and that, surveying its new surroundings.

"Yes, my baby, it is time to meet your father!" Hermione intoned in slow reverie.

Harry, still utterly spellbound by the events unfolding before him, could do nothing but watch as the cruel, dark eyes of the abomination with the face that he knew so well locked onto his. There was a moment of odd bonding between them; the creature seemed to recognise both a life sworn enemy and a father figure in that young wizard's eyes.

"My…my son?" Harry slurred, his mind a veritable anticyclone of profound, unfamiliar and colourful emotion; always reacting, always at the whim of events around him, as though his life, running like a tap, had spilled from the brain of some conceited, yet tired hack.

Slowly, painfully, his longing gaze was returned by the creature, its black soulless eyes pools of infant-like wonder.

Thus, that sacred moment drifted on in spite of the enormous inconsistency with the previous events and general history of these two arch-nemeses. Would there be an embrace? A peace finally achieved through the only true and tangible love left in this pitiless world: that existing between parent and child?

…Sadly it would not be so.

The attack was as quick as it was unexpected. With unbelievable speed the creature propelled itself with pinnipedic agility, tracing a graceful arc of doom through the crackling skies until its noseless face filled the reflective surface of Harry's spectacles.

To his credit, Harry took the blow like a trooper; grunting ever so reservedly as the black mass slammed into his schoolboy physique and latched onto him like a clothes peg. His front was covered with a profusion of acrid-to-taste liquid which seemed to coat the entirety of the creature. Presently, this liquid served as an admirable solvent and Harry's hand finally slipped free of the doorknob. Perhaps he now had a fighting chance against this abominable spectre of his childhood and young, pubescent life.

However, the soiling of Harry's immaculate Quidditch uniform, which now bore a sew-on patch for 'most fated', had the unfortunate side effect of unhinging his already bruised and reeling sanity. Thus, his defence consisted of using his liberated hands to cover his face while screaming, "So dirty", in a ragged soprano.

Curiously, the creature seemed to be drawn to his gaping mouth, seemingly attempting to burrow in. It nuzzled almost affectionately at the wall of fingers which latticed the young wizard's face. Try as it might, however, Harry's state had rendered his extremities deathly rigid and the creature could coax no entry.

Logically, it headed south, towards the only gate left unguarded.

Pinnipeds are marine animals falling within the suborder of Caniforma which include such iconic sea mammals as the walrus and sea lion.

(NB Pinnipedic is perhaps not a real word)


	4. Harry Potter: A New Low Part 4

Harry Potter: A New Low (Part 4)

He awoke to the gentle, yet incessant nagging of a familiar voice.

"Harry?"

…pause…

"Harry?"

…pause…

"Harry?"

…pause…

"Harry?"

…pause…

Perhaps it was the eighth repetition which did the trick, for the boy wizard's eyes suddenly flicked open like deathly, cruel bear traps in reverse.

"What… what happened? Was it all some insane dream? Hermione, that creature, the door handle", he gasped, brushing hair from his face and assuming his usual bewildered expression, spidey sense tingling away.

"It was no dream, Harry", intoned an aged, familiar voice with a hint of toffee, which resonated about the room like a prayer chime.

Harry squinted with post-op. curiosity in the direction of the voice. At first he could see nothing save for dancing grey spots. Then, as his vision cleared somewhat, he became aware of some colossal form standing over him, leaning in like a crazy, cartoon silhouette with eyes shining like gems in the dark.

It was Dumbledore.

"Nice to see you awake", he oozed, his mouth struggling to form words, being so beset by beard that many wonder how the man joined to those horrendous follicles could function in modern society.

Harry looked away from the voluminous form of the professor to take in his surroundings. He seemed to be in Dumbledore's study. Sturdy, oak book cases lined the walls, filled with thick tomes of discredited publications. On the back wall, centrally positioned, sat the professor's massive study desk, scattered with those stubborn scrolls which, no matter how many paperweights are poured into the task, just won't stay flat. The desk's massiveness seemed like an overcompensation; truly, a leviathan of dark, oiled cedar.

Harry knew the room well enough, having on occasion being sent here for 'counselling'. However, something was not right this time. For one thing, the ceiling was decorated with a curious, yet intricate, spiral design that he had never noticed before. Secondly, though his observation skills had never been complimented openly by peers and comrades, he was pretty sure that on his last visit to this particular part of the Hogwarts aether, there had not been so many rusty chains suspended from the walls, swinging menacingly in the non-existent breeze.

Presently, he was lying sprawled on a shallow, hospital bed, stained with curious stains. A large tank of isoflurane loomed to his immediate right, standing upright, inflammable, and ominous.

"What happened, why am I lying here?" Harry buzzed.

"Questions, questions. Always with the questions, Harry. Do you really want to define your generation and this particular genre with constant enigmas?"

Harry frowned, "I feel…different…like something is…missing."

"Rightly so. Rightly so" Dumbledore mumbled, his eyes more downcast than usual.

Realisation hit Harry like a mud cake.

Desperately, he fumbled to loosen his official, level 5 Quidditch belt, utterly ruffling his shirt in the process, then cautiously, praying that everything would somehow be all right, he lifted the edge of his pants and peered into the gloom.

His jaw dropped fully an inch below the recommended level for an expression of shock at the sight which met his ultra-dilated eyes.

"Yes, well…" Dumbledore began, "we had to make some changes…"

"I'm a…" Harry began.

"A woman." Dumbledore finished the sentence for him. He continued, "You see, that creature you encountered was a Voldessassin, a horrid magical construct which burrows inside its victims, clings to their vitals, and then waits to be detonated by its master".

"Master? You mean, Voldemort!" Harry gasped.

"Voldemort indeed" Dumbledore confirmed.

"But, Hermione. She was pregnant with that…that thing. I thought it was my son."

"Yes, I am aware of your premarital indiscretions, Harry," Dumbledore winked knowingly. "And, in a way, you are the father. You see, the Voldessassin needs hatred to grow to full killing potential. At some point, Voldemort must have placed the Voldessassin seed inside of Hermione, knowing that your drunken, teenage advances would soon yield results. Sure enough, your semi-consensual tryst in the woods caused Hermione to think she was pregnant, thus ruining her life and instilling within her a fiery, hormonal hatred for you. This caused the Voldessassin to grow just like a real foetus, feeding on a diet of pure hatred, hatred for its intended target: You!"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, "This was another of Voldemort's twisted schemes. It all makes sense now," he continued, "except for one thing…why did you turn me into a woman?"

"Well," the professor coughed, "that's where things get complicated. The Voldessassin, once it enters its victim, clings to the nearest vital organ it can find. Due to its unconventional point of entry into your body, this closest set of organs unfortunately happened to be your testes." Harry's face took on a sublime shade of off-white as the professor continued. "When I surgically removed the creature, time was of the essence… I'm afraid I couldn't save your manhood. I'm sorry."

For a moment there was thoughtful, perhaps mournful, silence before Harry fired up unexpectedly. "But, I looked. I know what I saw down there! I'm 'equipped' like a woman now! You haven't explained why that was necessary!"

Dumbledore seemed for the first time to be at a loss for words….

To be continued in series 2!!!!!


End file.
